


Overheat

by taylor_tut



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Parent Hank Anderson, Sick Character, Sick Connor, Sickfic, Worried Hank Anderson, me trying to bullshit the ability to whump an android, nothing more creative than an author trying to whump an unwhumpable character, with "science"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 14:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A fic for a prompt on my tumblr: "I looked at your old whump bingo and I was thinking of Connor getting some android virus and the “You said you didn’t need anything this morning, but you were clearly lying, do you need me to come over there” seems like something he would say to his android son despite not knowing how to deal with a sickly and drastically increasingly overheating Connor."





	Overheat

OOhh this has sat for long enough and I love it, so here’s a fic! 

Hank was already in a bad mood when he got to the agency, and honestly, the lack of Connor’s presence had lightened it just a bit. He was used to the kid beating him there by at least half an hour, already sitting at his desk with a wide smile and a loud “good morning, Lieutenant!” no matter how bad his hangover was. Gavin rarely gave more than a nod of acknowledgement when he arrived, and everyone else was too afraid of morning-Hank to say anything before 10 a.m. 

But as 9:05 rolled around, then 9:10, then 9:30, Hank was finding that the relief he’d felt at not having to yell at Connor was now being replaced with worry about  _ why _ Connor wasn’t there to be yelled at. When he went into the breakroom to refill his coffee at a quarter to ten, he decided he’d ask the others about it. 

Only Officers Chen and Wilson were in the breakroom that early. 

“Has anyone seen Connor today?” Hank asked casually, and Chen raised one eyebrow. 

“Have you seriously not heard?” she asked, then flushed and corrected herself when Wilson elbowed her in the ribs. “Sorry, Lieutenant,” she muttered, “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just--it’s been all over the news.”

“What has?” Hank pressed, feeling his hangover begin to worsen already. 

“Someone hacked the androids,” she replied. “Every model newer than last year was affected.” 

Hank’s jaw dropped. “What the hell do you mean, ‘someone hacked the androids?’ Did they get classified information?”

Officer Wilson shook his head. “So far, it’s not looking like they were after anything like that,” he said. “It’s more like someone was trying to take them out of commission.” 

“You think someone’s trying to pull something?” Hank asked.

Chen nodded. “Seems that way,” she replied. “They’re trying to pinpoint the hacker, but as of right now, they’ve got nothing.”

“It’s a nasty trick, too,” Wilson nodded. “The virus they sent out was disguised as an email from Cyberlife, but as soon as you open it, it takes over.” 

Hank was already turning on the television, where, sure enough, every major news station was covering the story.

“The search for the culprit is still open,” a reporter began, “but early investigations are speculating that it may be a deviant android, likely an older model. Any agencies that employ androids should not expect performance from their models for at least several days while Cyberlife works to create an antivirus. The virus is sending conflicting signals from each of the sensors, resulting in confusion, difficulty standing, physical instability, and overheating.” 

Wilson frowned. “Sounds like Connor’s in for a hell of a few days,” he said sympathetically.

Hank sighed. “I should call him,” he announced, “make sure he knows what’s going on.” 

It took three tries to get through to Connor, but when Hank finally heard the kid’s voice on the other end, his sour mood softened. 

“Lieutenant,” Connor greeted, sounding shaky and anxious, “I’ve been--I have been attempting to reach you.” 

“My phone’s been on,” Hank told him, “so the issue’s probably on your end. Feelin’ pretty crappy, kid?” 

Connor was silent for a long moment. “I’m unsure what is--my systems are--I can’t… think, Lieutenant,” he said. He was taking long pauses, skipping in his thoughts, clearly confused and scared about it. 

“It’s okay, Connor,” Hank reassured. “There’s a bug affecting the androids, and you picked it up from an email. You’ll probably be feeling out of it for a few days. You’re off duty until you’re right in the head again.” 

He sounded audibly relieved. “Thank you,” he said, “for calling. I tried to reach you. I was trying to--”

“Yeah, kid, you said that,” Hank cut him off. “You’re a little confused. Do you need anything?” he offered, feeling a bit awkward about even offering. He wasn’t even really sure what he could bring him, but if Connor did need something, there was no one else who could get it to him. 

Another pause made Hank doubt the truthfulness of Connor’s answer. “I’m fine, Lieutenant,” he replied. 

“Hank,” Hank corrected. “Look, this bug ain’t gonna kill ya, but it’s not gonna be pleasant. You call me if you need anything, alright?” 

“I will,” Connor promised. “I’d just like to rest,” he admitted. 

This kid was gonna be the death of him. “Do that,” he instructed. “I’ll call you again sometime this evening to make sure you’re still doing okay. Remember what I said to do if you feel worse?”

“Call you,” Connor replied. 

“Good,” Hank confirmed. “I’ll talk to ya later.” 

Turns out, a day without Connor was much longer than Hank thought it would be. When he thought he’d enjoy the silence, he found himself bored. Where he thought it’d be a relief not having to watch someone lick evidence, he found that he was missing scolding him about it. Even stretching his legs out to take up Connor’s chair with his feet wasn’t as satisfying as he wanted it to be. It seemed to take forever for the clock to strike five and release him from work. 

Meanwhile, Connor was not dealing well with the virus. 

He’d woken up too dizzy to even get all the way out of bed, then tried to call Hank twice before forgetting what he’d been doing and lapsing back into rest mode until Hank called him instead. After their conversation, in which, Hank would guilt him about later, he’d promised to call if he needed him, Connor had closed his eyes again on the edge of his bed and rested on and off for hours, only waking up when an alert flashed across his LED in red letters. 

WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEAT

Connor wanted to curse. Cyberlife, of course, hadn’t equipped his small living quarters with anything except a bed that served as a charging station. No kitchen and no bathroom, which, unfortunately meant no running water under which he could sit until his core temperature went down. 

Hank had said to call if he needed anything. The time was 3:48, only an hour and twelve minutes before Hank would be off work. Could he wait? His body said no, that a core temperature this high for well over an hour could potentially do damage. His thirium pump was slow, sluggish, hesitant to pump blue blood to his head and making him feel as if he could power down if he stood. His vision and his body were uncoordinated, and when he tried to move, the system worked in overdrive to attempt to bridge the gap, making him see double. 

He should call Hank. He needed someone, wanted it to be Hank--but he couldn’t. It was his job as an android to care for the needs of humans, not the other way around. Hank wasn’t a mechanic, and he didn’t work for Cyberlife. There was no logical reason that Hank would want to come to him. His mind ran double, triple at a time, and he found himself unfocused and upset. The feeling was disturbing to say the least.

WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEAT

SHUTDOWN: THIRTY-SEVEN SECONDS

Connor had never had such an imminent shutdown before. He didn’t have time to get up and find a coolant, and he didn’t have time to call Hank, and he didn’t have time to do anything but sleep. 

On his way home, Hank tried calling Connor. The kid had sounded bad this morning, but Cyberlife would take care of that, right? If anything happened, Cyberlife would be the first to know, and they’d send someone to fix it. Right?

Still, it was odd to not be able to get ahold of Connor. Hank was pretty sure the kid would rise from the grave to pick up the phone if it was a work call, so why wasn’t he answering now?

One more time, he told himself, before he gave up and would just assume Connor was resting and fine. 

“Hank?” Connor picked up. Hank’s stomach dropped at how scared and weak he sounded. 

“Shit, kid,” he cursed, “you sound awful. Are you feeling okay?”

Connor took a miserable, shaky breath. “I don’t--I’m not--uh, I don’t know,” he cycled. Hank could practically hear the gears whirring in his head.

“You told me this morning you didn’t need anything,” Hank reminded him, “but you were clearly lying. Do you need me to come over there?”

“I’m too hot,” he said honestly, not really sure what else to say. “It’s unpleasant.”

Hank was already in his car, already on his way to Connor’s place. 

“I know it is, kid,” he chuckled. “Can you wait ten minutes? I’m only ten minutes away.”

Connor nodded, seemingly not remembering that Hank couldn’t see him.

“Connor?” he prompted in the silence. 

“Mhmm,” he replied, “Hank, it’s hot.” 

“I’m probably gonna have to bring you back to my place, if you’re in as bad of shape as you sound,” he warned, speeding up in his car. He was over the speed limit, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d flashed his police badge for special treatment. “Do you have everything you need to come with me?” 

“There is nothing I require Lieutenant,” Connor said, and Hank scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s what you said this morning,” he argued. “I’m gonna hang up now,” he said, “so be ready to go when I get there, got it?” 

Connor made another affirmative grunt and Hank hung up the phone, driving as fast as he could to Connor’s apartment. He didn’t have a key, but Connor never locked the door. Hank opened the door and immediately felt his stomach drop. 

“Oh, Jesus, kid,” Hank sighed. Connor was half on the bed and half on the floor, his jacket inside out and next to him like he’d thrown it off in a hurry. HIs tie was loose around his neck. “You look miserable.”

Connor startled with Hank next to him, blinking and reaching out and missing twice for Hank’s shoulder before using it to sit fully upright with Hank’s help.

“I’m seeing double,” Connor admitted, sounding panicky. “Hank, I’m--I don’t know what’s happening.”

Hank couldn’t keep himself from rubbing small circles in Connor’s back as he helped him to his feet. “It’s all just the virus,” he promised, “it’s normal. They said you might feel this way for a few days, but you’re gonna be fine. You don’t have to be scared,” he said, realizing that’s exactly what Connor was.

Connor nodded, leaning into Hank for stability as he stood. 

“You’re really burnin’ up, son,” Hank fretted, his hand moving from his waist to his forehead. “God, you’ve been this sick all day? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Interrupting you would have slowed the investigation,” Connor said.

“I don’t care about that, and you know it,” Hank bit. Really, the investigation was the furthest thing from his mind. He cared about the fact that Connor had been here alone and freaked out all day, sick and miserable, wondering if he was broken. 

“I do,” Connor returned. Well, that wasn’t something Hank was gonna fight him on here.

“Alright, I know you do,” Hank finally caved. “Let’s just get you cooled off, kay?”  

Connor was limp and listless in his arms all the way to the car, and let himself be seated and buckled up without much protest. Hank was beginning to wonder how he was going to get Connor inside when they finally arrived at his home, and he shook his shoulder, rousing him from near-sleep. 

“You’ve gotta get up now, Connor,” Hank instructed as gently as he could. Connor squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’m fine here,” he insisted, and Hank rolled his eyes. 

“You’re not fine here; you’re coming with me,” he said authoritatively. Connor whimpered, and Hank caved. “Sumo’s in there,” he reminded. “Get up, and he’s all yours until you’re feelin’ better.”

Connor opened one eye suspiciously. “Really?” he verified. 

Hank nodded. “All yours, I promise.” Not without some complaining, Connor leaned against Hank once more and let himself be let into the house. However, the stress of moving around was enough to overheat him once more, and red warning letters flashed across his vision. 

“Hank,” he breathed, “I don’t feel good.” Hank had him propped between his hip and the wall, fumbling with his keys. 

“Hang tight,” he said, “one minute--shit!” he exclaimed, scrambling to get inside faster as Connor’s legs gave out and he collapsed into the door. Once inside his apartment, Hank more or less dragged Connor to the bathroom. Sumo came to investigate, excited to see the one person who spoiled him more than Hank did, but he pushed him away. “Sorry, Sumo,” he apologized, “not yet.” 

Connor came to in the bathtub, cold water soaking him from the shower. Hank had stripped him down to his boxers, and he was shivering despite knowing that his core temperature was still far too elevated. 

“Connor?” Hank tried, patting his cheek with one hand. “You with me again?”

Connor frowned. “Haven’t gone anywhere, Lieutenant,” he pointed out. Hank let out a tight breath. 

“Thank fuck,” he said, sitting back against the bathroom wall. “You were out for a few minutes. I didn’t even know if this shower thing was gonna work--I saw it in a movie, once.” 

Connor made grabby hands for the towel. “I’d like to dry off,” he stated. 

Hank looked torn for a minute, then shook his head, keeping the towel out of Connor’s reach. 

“Sorry, kid,” he held firm, “I don’t like how high that temperature is. You’ve gotta stay under a few more minutes.” 

Connor looked alarmingly like he might cry. “Okay, Lieutenant,” he forced himself to say. After several more minutes, Hank finally reached over and turned the water off. “I can get out?” he asked. 

“Yeah, kid,” Hank said, “slowly. If you pass out on me again, you’re going back under.”

Connor seemed to understand and accept that, sitting on the edge of the bathtub for a long moment before standing. 

Hank guided him to his own bedroom and sat him down on the bed. After searching through his own clothes for a minute, he found a pair of boxers that weren’t shower-soaked and a soft pair of sweats. 

“Change into this,” Hank instructed. “It’ll probably be big, but you’ll be dry, at least.”

Connor frowned. “My own clothes are undamaged,” he argued. 

“There’s no way you’re spending your sick days on my couch in fucking tie,” Hank said definitively, “so save us both the time and change, already.”

Connor obeyed orders, changing while Hank turned away for privacy. It was slow-going, and he nearly asked Hank for help, but finally managed to pull the shirt over his head himself. 

“You ready to get some sleep, son?” Hank asked when Connor told him he could turn around. 

“This is your bed,” Connor argued. Hank wasn’t sure if he was confused, embarrassed, or a bit of both. 

“It is,” he said, “and you’re gonna sleep in it. I’ll take the couch.”

“My temperature is back to functional levels,” he pointed out. “You can take me back--if you want to. My temperature is--”

“Right, no,” Hank cut him off. He was repeating himself again, a sure sign the fever or whatever was going back up already, and he’d likely be back to a confused, miserable mess in very little time. “You’re not gonna call me when you need me, so I’m gonna keep you here until I know you don’t.”

Connor was too tired to argue. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“I told you, it’s Hank,” Hank corrected without any heat. “I’m gonna be right out here on the couch, so if you need me, get me. Seriously, this time. I don’t want to find you like that again.” 

Looking scolded, Connor nodded. Sumo appeared in the doorway, and his eyes couldn’t hide his desire to love him. 

“Up, boy,” he commanded, and Sumo jumped up on the bed next to Connor, who wrapped his arms immediately around him. Hank flipped the light switch to let Connor sleep in peace. “Night, Connor,” he said, thinking that he was already asleep and smiling when he was met with a small “thanks, Hank.” 


End file.
